Danger Beyond Vader
by Typewriter King
Summary: When dealt a hand of TIE bombers, mould them into a super weapon! How Colonel Warden's air war strategy applies to Star Wars.The world this story is based on is registered by Lucasarts.
1. Chapter 1

Danger Beyond Vader

Traee Motal waited for Moff Blister to step onto the muddy brown soil of Motal's planet Kip, the prison world holding vile gangsters such as Zorba the Hutt.

"Good thing it's dry right now," Traee whispered to an assistant in a white cloak.

Red cloaked and helmeted royal guards, or crafty imitations, flanked a slim, slow moving, pale-skinned starship veteran as he regally exited the '_Llambada_' class Imperial shuttle. The ex-strategic insertion storm trooper named Colonel Motal walked to the end of the ramp as Blister reached the end, then extended his hand.

"Greetings, Sir Moff Blister, welcome to the Kip System, our facilities are in your hands," he assured Blister.

"I'm honored to be accepted on your world, Colonel. May my personnel take my things to my quarters?' Traee nodded.

"Certainly," he looked down at his comm. "Leslie, show Blister's people where to take their things." The boy rushed.

"Yessir," and ran toward the shuttle. The red guards moved their hands toward their blasters a little to hastily for well-trained diplomatic security.

'_If his personal guards aren't even completely trained, then I wouldn't expect his crewmen to be at the high level either, which means I can bully him in our conversation_.'

Traee masked his smile by turning to watch the luggage carriers run with the warlord's crud. Finally, he turned back to the arrivals.

"Why don't we commence our conversation on Kip Tower, the tall skeletal tower you must have seen on your trip to my surface. C'mon, an air speeder's waitin'," he invited a little too casually.

'_He knows I've noticed his guards and their lack of restraint_.'

Traee smiled, but he refused to lock eyes with Blister.

"Alright, my guards and I will meet with you on that tower, but I need some time with my staff for a moment, agreed?" As if answering a request from a student, Traee said "you're excused."

Moff Blister irritably turned away and exited into his own shuttle. Lead lectured his own staff.

"That's what the other remaining warlords are like in the core systems, un-satiated gluttons prone to flaky tantrums. Luckily, it's not too late to appease him, so that I can still get what I want from him. One new member of his staff asked in a puzzled tone,

"I don't understand, how will upsetting him lead to appeasement?" Traee smiled cunningly, and answered proudly,

"This guy's got an ego problem, as all Imperial warlords do, so, after that sting he'll be muttering about how he would have become the new Emperor if he had a few more things in his tool box."

Mayor Gallant felt fright.

"So, we give him the planet?"

Motal assured him that was never considered.

"Negative, I was thinking, oh, something like a terror weapon."

The Space Trooper, Loran, didn't like the sound of this at all.

"You mean the TIE-bombers, am I right? We can't give him those, sir, we don't know if this guy's mind is healthy or anything." Traee Motal confidently smiled again.

"This will work, my special committees have target lists on the worlds that we could conquer in two days, and I'll let him have one and enjoy his success by gloating about it on the holo net. Don't worry, I'll control him before it's too late."

Thanks to the labor 'droids, the prison world Kip didn't have the appearance of the world feared by people who couldn't survive on a planet like Kessal. Instead, the planet was beginning to look more like a developed world beyond even the development of the Wookie world of Kashyakk. Many rows of vigilant ground cover was visible below the giant land speeder; Traee was very proud of his project to turn the prison world into a world that would soon be as glorious as the many New Republic worlds.

'_Moff Blister has no idea that he is actively working to improve this world. What a fool. Stage two of my puppet show will start the Hutt rolling, I hope._'

The treaty room proved to be just as effective in operating strings as Traee had planned.

"Are you comfortable, Mister Blister?" The human woman who was already waiting in the treaty room asked as the Imperial visitors walked in.

"Don't ever call me that!" The warlord erupted. The puny man's redness receded as he willed to calm to purge his rage.

"I really should think about changing my name," he muttered, wiping sweat from his pallor face.

"No, I'm upset," he told her. He was about to ask her what her name was when Traee Motal and his special forces walked in.

"Guri, is Sir Blister ill?" He smiled inwardly after seeing the end of that minor victory occur.

"He's OK, Sir. He just needs to take his medication, I think," she said innocently.

"Oh tangelo stink!" He felt clearly insulted again.

"Relax, Sir, I think I have something that will cheer you up," Traee said, handing the warlord a datapad.

"What's this?" Guri answered.

"It's a report, press the news flimsy icon that's on the screen."

Everything of the warlord's face widened in surprised delight.

"TIE-bombers," Guri confirmed it.

"Yessir, 870 fully operational, fully loaded, last block."

"In one moment I could destroy 870 targets?" It was an obvious answer.

"Of course, as long as you could command them all, you are capable of doing that, right?" Traee gave the motivating challenge.

"Yes I can. Oh glory to the Empire!" What a boast! For the first time, Traee openly smiled in front of the petty warlord.

End of stages one and two, Traee.

Key words

Flimsy: paper

Datapad: Palm Pilot for the Star Wars Universe

TIE: Twin Ion Engine fighter

Moff: Imperial dictator

Air speeder: high altitude hover car, a plane

A Little Demonstration

"Nice bridge, Moff Blister, I see that you've personally directed the development of the _Disparager_," Traee applauded the warlord, while touring the command area aboard Moff Blister's flagship, one that could be identified as a star destroyer simply by hearing or seeing its name.

"We've launched, Sir, the TIE-bombers left the towed-barge hangers, and are moving into the system. ETA at the Colonial Moons in two minutes," a middle-aged female tech reported.

"This will be delicious, TIE-bombers are very good with asteroid belts. Few bombers will have to be diverted by them, and a massive amount will still be flying at the moons," Traee said to Blister, pleased with himself.

Blister, however, seemed to be looking for Darth Vader to tell him he had failed. The Empire tends to do that with people, even today, long after the death of Vader and the loss of Endor.

"The assault has begun; glide bombs have disabled all primary defensive guns in the belt, shields are rising on the Colonial Moons. TIE-ugly fighters are taking off, but-"

The tech reporting from situations stopped momentarily.

"Stand-off cluster bombs have just eliminated them and all support structures for the Fighter Militia. Electro-optically guided bombs are targeting Y-wings-"

The holo-display images appeared on the bridge; and then faded away.

"Y-wings destroyed."

On the display, azure points moved toward black images of heavy gun batteries. Batteries to unwieldy even to track TIE-bombers effectively.

And to big to be mobile.

"Special anti-ship torpedoes are closing in on the anti-ship batteries," the crew felt buried in suspense.

"The guns are eliminated, a conventional proton bomb drop has breached the shields, and New Republic delivered TIE-fighters are finally lifting out of their hangers."

High time to invade the system.

"Helmsman, jump into system. We must enter the battle," Blister ordered, knowing that those TIEs require proper fleet intercept.

Traee contacted his TIE-Intercepter squadron.

"Guri, time to brandish arms. We have New Republic shield-fitted TIE-fighters out there, so take care."

"Sir, I have a special self interest to _take care_," she protested, even as the star destroyer entered hyperspace.

It was a transient jump, but it removed the gap. Abruptly, the interceptors had a definite chance of preempting the loss of the bombers.

Smart guys, they broke from the bombers to engage the nascent villains.

Guri and her wingman dove toward the moon to avoid a head-to-head pass on a shielded fighter. '_My ship is too awesome to take such a risk with. If I'm careful, winning is inevitable._'

She decided beforehand not to engage the first fighter, but to split-s toward the rear of a fighter on her right hand side. Success! Her crosshairs tagged him, delivered a quad turbo-laser burst into a TIE as her wing throttled down and jinked as a decoy for a pursuing TIE.

"I'll tag him, Rod two," she shouted, performing a flawless Immelmann, placing a shot into his solar port, where there had to be less shielding.

As per the rules, she was right. Her shot made the TIE to sluggish for low-level flight.

A mountain took it.

"Thanks, Rod leader," praised two.

"A pleasure, two."

"No loses, Sir, all bombers have returned," the very same middle-aged female tech reported once again.

This was good news, impossible news, a victory such as this was unheard of, but Traee had the magic formula.

"Standoff, smart projectiles gave you this victory, Moff Blister, and _your_ forces just don't have many left, but, a whole new concept has been developed, and this has only partially been explored by the rebels," Traee lied.

'_Actually, Rogue Squadron has been operating like this for years_.'

The commando felt thankful to the force for finding a Moff as gullible as this Blister.

'_Soon I'll find someone that can lead, and then I think we'll tame the wild space left around this galaxy_.'

Their puny coalition hasn't consolidated the mass for that just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

"Nice bridge, Moff Blister, I see that you've personally directed the development of the Disparager," Traee applauded the Warlord, while touring the areas of command aboard Moff Blister's flag ship, one that could be identified as a star destroyer simply by hearing or seeing its name.

"We've launched, Sir, the TIE-bombers have left the hangers aboard the barges we've towed through hyperspace, and are moving into the system. ETA at the colonial moons in two minutes," a middle-aged female warrant officer reported.

"This will be delightful, Tie-bombers are very good with asteroid belts. Few bombers will have to be diverted to them, and a massive amount will still be flying at the moons," Traee said to Blister, much pleased.

Blister, however, seemed to be looking for Darth Vader in the shadows. The Empire tends to do that with people, even today, long after the death of the gasping Sith, and the lose at Endor.

"The assault has begun, glide bombs have disabled all primary defensive guns in the belt, shields are rising on the colonial moons. TIE-ugly fighters are take off but-"

The weapons officer reporting from situations stopped momentarily.

"Stand-off cluster bombs have just eliminated them and all support structures for the fighter militia. Electro-optically guided bombs are targeting Y-wings-" The holo-display images appeared on the bridge; faded away.

"Y-wings destroyed.'

Blue dots moved toward black images of heavy gun batteries, batteries too massive even to track TIE-bombers effectively. And too big for mobility.

"Proton anti-ship torpedoes are closing in on the anti-ship batteries," the crew held stiff in suspense. "The guns are eliminated, a conventional proton bomb drop has breached the shields, and New Republic-delivered TIE-fighters are finally lifting out of their hangers."

The time had come to enter the system.

"Helm, jump into the system. We must enter the battle," Blister ordered, knowing that those TIEs must be stopped. Traee contacted his TIE-interceptor squadron.

"Guri, time to enter the battle. We have New Republic shield-fitted TIE-fighters out there, so don't get sloppy."

"But Sir, I could never get sloppy at all," she protested, as the star destroyer entered the stretched-light realm of hyperspace.

Thankfully, the brief extra-dimensional jump closed the gap, giving the interceptors the allowance needed to save the bombers. Guri alluded the enemy silently. They had enough self-preservation smarts to break off, rather than vaporize the bombers at the expense of their lives.

Guri and her wingman dived toward the planet to avoid a head-to-head pass on hoard of shield fighters. _My ship is too awesome to take such a risk with. If I'm careful, winning is inevitable_. She decided beforehand not to engage the first fighter, but to split-s to the rear of a fighter on her right-hand side. She succeeded, delivering a quad turbo-laser burst into a TIE as her wing throttled down to jink as a decoy for pursuing shielded-TIE.

"Hang on, Rod Two," she addressed her wingman, while performing a flawless Immelmann, and placing a shot into her target's solar port, where there had to be less shielding. As always, she wagered correctly, as her shot harvested a deluge of slag and debris off. Control surfaces gone, the TIE suddenly grew too sluggish for low-level flying. A mountain waited for it's arrival.

"Thanks, Rod Leader," two thanked her, gratefully, as always.

"May pleasure, Two."

"No loses, Sir. All bombers have returned," the same warrant officer reported once again. This was good news, impossible news. A victory of this magnitude was unheard of, but Traee had the magic formula.

"Standoff, smart projectiles gave you this victory, Moff Blister, and _your _forces just don't have many left, but, a whole new concept has been developed, and this has only partially been explored by the rebels," Traee lied, and most people would know it. Rogue Squadron have been operating like this for years. Traee was lucky to find a warlord like Blister, and very thankful he could exploit him and his **Pint Empire**.

Soon, I'll find someone that can lead, and then I think we'll tame the wild space left around this galaxy.

Moff Blister and Traee Motel just didn't have enough power for all that just yet.


	3. Chapter 3

One standard hour after the victory at Colonial Moons, Traee personally led an attack on High General Husk's headquarters.

"Sled Seven, this is Sled One, don't be a coward, catch up with Eight." Shed Seven was actually doing fine, but Traee had to break comm silence to draw out enemy TIEs. Reconnaissance by fire, of sorts.

And just as the scouting party said, Tie fighters popped over the luscious tree tops and attempted to fire, and were instantly cut down by Sled Squadron Tie Raptors.

"Good shooting, Sled," Traee told them proudly, for that type of abrupt victory rarely happened. "Let's rise to medium altitude and watch for chip missile sites." The squadron complied and met Traee in mid atmosphere. The leader kept his weapons toggle set on his secondaries. Something might might need a quick slap-shot from his missiles.

TIE Raptors were new Siener Fleet Systems craft that had small wings replacing the conventional upright solar ports of the famous TIE-fighter. They also carried powerful missiles that Traee depended on for success of the mission. However, he was not actually in one. Instead, he had perhaps the only pre-Endor TIE-Defender in the galaxy. With shields, two ion cannon and turbo-lasers, eight proton torpedoes, and the speed and agility of a TIE-fighter, it would be quite a fighter even without mentioning the hyperdrive and tractor-beam.

_I'm lucky, and I'm good. I get to play with Husk's armed forces_.

A sentry shuttle reported a missile battery ahead, and tasked Sled Squadron's lead flight to take it out.

"I'm on my way, I'll arrive in 40 seconds," he replied, and did arrive on time to find a missile closing in.

His eyes darted across his holo-display, see the projected outline of a speeder craft. He skillfully softened and titled his shields at the impact site and deflected the missile at a road behind him, even as he tractored the ground ahead. Packets of trees may just keep him safe if he dives low enough, he thought. As expected, a pack of other large speeders fired shots along the flight paths of Traee's other flight mates.

Hovering on the ground, he tilted his nose toward a speeder, and slaved a torpedo to his flight controls.

_This is stupid, but what else can I do_? He guided _torpedo one _into the perfect proximity to a pocket of vehicles, detonated it, leaving only the distant site he had started with.

"Hold back, guys, I'll get that one, too!" With that said, he landed and left his fighter. "I'll go on foot and take that thing out with this," he said silently, taking a rocket launcher form his cargo storage. _Should be another minute before I take that one out_.

* * *

The military advisor, Vain Hudson, belly-rolled out of the asteroid belt with some excuse about checking his land gear. "It always works," he told himself with pleasure. "All I have to do is say, 'the inertial force will force my gear in,'" he self-explained, "and I get to do what I want." This is the situation on Colonial Moons: The "High General" plans to defect from the Empire and join the New Republic, along with all his holdings, and to avoid retaliation, he has asked for a defense force and other peace-keeping personnel. Understanding, the New Republic sent Hudson and a supply of TIE-fighters fitted with shields as the teeth in the operation. However, any ship of a certain tonnage was forbidden from being used in the operation, since command decided that General Husk's defense were capable of withstanding a brute force attack from the weakened Empire, and also, the Republic couldn't spread its force thin. As a result, Moff Blister and Traee Motal both considered disciplining General Husk's splinter of the once Galactic Empire. At least, that's the story Hudson heard.

"Husky, this is the military adviser, dispatch my A-wing somewhere," Vail requested. "Roger, Military Adviser, assigning new designation, Shark-Saber, adjust your heading to 1-6-0, and join Shark-Saber Squadron as Leader," an operator with a "female" computer voice told him.

_Is that a real person_?

A new Republic test pilot turned one man Foreign Legion zipped toward his Imperial Squadron mates.

_Who would have guessed I'd be helping **these** guys_?

* * *

"Mission complete," I'm returning to my flight craft. Patrol for irregulars, and identify any targets," Traee told his squadron in an even, yet exhausted tone. _Not that I'm tire, I grew up on Corida, and it doesn't het any more rugged than that._

He walked soaked in sweat, but making excellent time in returning to his TIE-defender. _I'm back, I wonder if they have forgotten my roots?_

He applied power to his defender once he strapped back in, then contacted his men once again.

"Hey, Five, contact Hawk-Bat Eye (the sentry craft). I really think all of the major pains are gone around here," he told one of the Sleds in a light commanding tone. "Yessir, adjust to Hawk-Bat comm signal," he instructed out of necessity.

Everyone complied. "Sled Leader, your squadron are free to engage all hostiles, even Husk Bunker has a green light," the voice said suggestively.

"You heard it, Sleds, let's fly medium level toward the bunker and link flight pairs into a sensor phalanx. Leaders, fighter mode, wing, ground attack. Remain like this until targets of opportunity appear, and keep in constant communication," he instructed them.

Traee felt slight apprehension. _Why are we being sent after it so soon? Have ground commandos already disabled the turbo-laser turrets? No, something's happened in the asteroid belt. The New Republic have placed something there. It couldn't be a double cross, it's just way too soon for that._

"Arm your missiles, guys, and commence operation Broad Lance. Eliminate the targets at Husk Bunker." Groans fell in the wake of the order. Board Lance called for demanding extreme attack-angle flying and precise shooting. Midair collisions were likely if someone wasn't flying by his instruments. Since Rebel pilots flew slower craft and still succeeded against Imperial Garrisons, Traee believed that by using improved tactics, he could compensate for eleven of his men not having shields.

The holo-screen had a flickering dot on it abruptly, and a warning sound rang. "We're in range. I'm breaking command into flight elements; I'll lead Sleds one through four," he told everyone through his comm. In the distance, beams flared in, the occurrence behind accentuated by the pilots' sensors, revealing them too the pilots in every TIE.

The beams provided target locks for Traee, who slaved his missiles to his laser detector. The first missile seemed to make a 90 degree angle into the ground below his TIE and find a hidden turret. Two others nailed sites just ahead. Traee rolled onto his port side as the explosive force hit his ITE. The solar port array provide lift for him to place distance between himself and the gun turrets. The others were also climbing to escape ground fire.

At that moment, a turbo-laser nailed his bow shields and deflected out into space.

_Below_.

Traee quickly switched from lasers to missiles and fired his two remaining onces at targets that couldn't wait. "That's five! An ace in one mission, but this snub fighter is crazy!" Traee quickly regretted saying that.

"Now that you have air supremacy, I am transporting you to sick-bay, Master Traee. We are returning to _Disparager_ right this instant," the TIE-defender told him as it overrode the manual controls.

_That's just great, have a heart attack and the fighter give you another one!_


	4. Chapter 4

"Sir, a New Republic task-force has jumped into the system. It's expeditionary in appearance, and approaching from the stern side at full sub-light speed," a human male reported over the enter comm to Moff Blister, who waited in quarters for reports from the moons. He'd anticipated nothing like this for another standard day.

He sneered, but revealed a slightly cunning expression in the light-bounce bulkhead.

_They're not going to stick it out if they're mere scouts, and even if they do, my TIE-bombers are showing their invincibility._

"Tactical Situations," Blister hailed neutrally.

"Looks like a flight of _Redthorn_ class scout ships, four Mon Calamari Assault Frigates, one X-wing squadron, two Y-wing squadrons, and two corvettes, possibly Corellian, or maybe Marauder class," Sensors reported with his usual light tone. "Sir, your presence is required on the bridge." Blister, irritated, inwardly admitted that's where he was supposed to be.

"I'm on my way." He cut the feed, straightened his coat, and headed briskly toward the bridge of his flagship. "Mr. Weber, deploy the TIE-bombers for a duel-echelon bombardment directed against the frigates at once," Blister ordered in a confident tone. However, his mood would soon have reason to change.

"Aye, Sir, but 320 bombers have been tasked against the remaining colonial targets," Mr. Weber reported, troubled.

Five fifty. OK. Two seventy-five in a row, and sixty proton bombs for each ship, Blister decided, would take out a Mon Calamari Frigate, or is it a Cruiser? Anyway, he was sure he had more than enough.

"Oh, Web, who tasked all those other bombers to the moons?"

Weber fidgeted.

"Awe...Miss...Guri gave the order, Sir." Blister's face deepened garnet in a rage. "Oh tangelo stink!" The rage faded. "Were the bombers _really_ necessary for continued success on the ground?"

"Quite, Sir. She seems to be rushing the process of conquering because she knew the taks force was on it's way."

Break

"Commander, we're out of missiles. Permission to alter Broad Lance," Three asked calmly.

"Permission granted. We'll use turbo-laser and fly in with flight element waves," Traee told the squadron.

"Aye," someone chirped.

"I'll fly with Two, Three, and Four as the first flight since I still have missiles," Traee told the group. Indeed, he still had for in his missile tubes. _I have to be the fearless leader once again, but that's not bothering me, is something wrong with Disparager_?

Traee circled from the tan bunker's entrance to his nine o'clock in a loose horizontal loop, and counted the remaining turrets firing on him. It appeared some fired from the same positions as vanquished turrets. He also spied bi-podded heavy blasters swiveling for kill shots.

_Thirty turbo-lasers and perhaps five waiting in a subterranean housing, shouldn't be a problem._

"Sled One, enemy squadron at vertical twelve," the Hawkbat Eye told Traee through a comm transmission. Traee peered at the top of his canopy. An A-wing and eleven TIEs! "Blast!" A ground turret impact reminded Traee about his previous situation. He re-evaluated the situation. The ground turrets, the swivel blasters, and the fighter squadron.

"This is _the _place to be unlucky," he told himself in a mock-elitist tone. This is the place.

**Above the atmosphere**

"Blast-boats!" Guri spotted the source of the jamming far before anyone else in the fleet could see specks. "Perhaps they need _specks," _Guri mumbled, clearly not entertained by the thought of being superior to everyone in the task-force in every catergory.

"They're called _Mandalorian Nova Squadron_, and they're in eighteen blast-boats, mainly skip-rays. It would be best to turn on them if they happen to find your six."

The interceptor slid before the eyes of the lead boat, trying to draw the right response from the boat. The clock ticked down. The TIE-interceptor would fall in range within seven seconds. _Just drift my way, and I'll make a good first impression._

One second. Guri switched from quad burst to single, firing from outside the listed maximum range of her TIE. The skip-ray pilot, seasoned in combat, recognized it as the powered down laser trick, where TIE pilots spring fire in green pilots by firing rapid bursts at them, inducing them into erratic maneuvers, to put them in compromising positions.

This guy, not fooled, accepted the blasts, and even accelerated to catch the interceptor before he believed it's lasers could power back up.

Guri had hoped for that, for she used the gambit to take a free stab at what she identified as the line-of-sight jamming pod. Even powered down, she entered enough current to fry the electronics.

"Now, about that head-to-head, I opt out," she barked, pretending the boat pilot could hear. _Do they all have jamming pods_? The android spent time thinking it over as she flew by her enemy's starboard, and climbing to a higher plane than her contestants. She looked out into space, seeing what would soon devolve into a furball, belly-rolling all the way.

Only the lead enemy singled her out. Presumably, he'd announced "He's mine," or something befitting his intelligence like that. It was as she thought; these were pirate-mercenaries hired by High General Husk, and they weren't all professional. Some of them had to have been mavricks not that long ago, seeing how they fought much like a street gang.

_Rim-worlders. They must be, since pirates have always been hunted mercilessly in the core worlds. A hidden fleet must be waiting for the right moment to jump in system. Husk has more resources than Traee had thought_.

"I think I should put more of my head into this dogfight now," Guri affirmed, while the skip-ray pilot briefly got a sensor lock. She broke to port hard until the Moon's gravity helped pull her away from the boat. Then, at the right moment, she broke hard to port again, into a right angle, and then to starboard, skipping her solar-array off the upper atmosphere and into the six o'clock position of a distant boat for a quick dual laser burst, catching it's shields. Though lacking much achievement, it forced the boat to go evasive, saving the life of a friendly TIE pilot.

"Many thanks, Lead," the pilot huffed thankfully. "Same to you in advance," Guri responded, hinting that she needed that pilot to assist. Luckily, that pilot caught on. Just in time, too. The lead boat recovered his target and moved progressively for the kill. Guri compromised her safety for victory with a gentle curve toward an astroid and into the sights of the lead boat. _Trust your wingman, this guy may very well be better than you in a one-on-one dual. _

The sensor lock warning activated as she kicked her rudders to port and blasted her repulsers against the astroid. Finally, she banked beyond the normal limits her craft could allow. Just in time, the green turbo-lasers jolted through the space previously occupied by her TIE. The boatsman attempted to continue his assault, but a TIE-interceptor blasted multiple kilojoules of quad-laser fire into the canopy of the blast-boat.

"Two, did you dispatch him?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, he's got a bad case of death," Two answered morbidly.

Guri laughed lightly, despite feeling a tad sick about morbidness of Rod Two's speech. Still, she felt gladness to once more become the hunter, or rather, huntress, after finishing with the enemy's fearless leader.

For the rest of the fight, she felt quite secure. Quite.

**Within the Atmosphere**

Draining all power from lasers, the ion cannon, and tractor beam, Traee place a wicked amount of power into the engines, and jumped into the no-escape range of Sharksabers Five and Six. Only naturally, they didn't escape the missiles marked for their demise.

"Where's Vain?" Traee asked his eyes, struggling to survive the fastest recorded atmospheric flight ever recorded in Imperial records.

_Good, he's busy with Sled Three. Maybe I can catch him_. Traee tried to maintain his speed, instead of the sensible thing, return to normal rates and avoid crushing g-forces. In fact, he popped more power into the engine, diverted from the compensator.

He then watched Vain's moves, in order to act properly. Traee dove at a sharp angle, and the targeting brackets flashed green. _No escape_!

The death-rail left it's tube, finally allow Traee to divert power to other systems. A little too late, regrettably. He vomited into his black Imperial helmet.

His eyelids dropped, but he knew he he'd pulled the fighter stick up at the proper attitude. Watery vision, mainly light, was Traee's fist flimpse of the world of inertia, where it took quite a lot of lift and other powers to change the course of a power-dive. By intuition, however, Traee knew just when to hit the forward repulser into maximum thrust.

Sleds Two and Three squelched and chirped on the comm in complete terror. Terror that Ex-Strategic Insertion Storm Trooper Traee Motal didn't have the slighted problem getting out of his mind.

_I can see again now. What's the situation_? He breathed some more, and felt the urge to ventilate violently for still more time.

"You've suffered stress on your heart, Colonel. Please report to base," a strange dull voice instructed him.

"Who are you?" Traee suspected he knew the answer.

"I am Sienar Fleet Systems TIE-Defender #9," it answer in the same odd tone.

Traee carefully avoided from provoking an override. "I've got to withdraw my squadron first. See the tactical screen?" The voice returned as Traee moved in on a TIE that was moving to cover the grounded Vain Hudson. "I can't allow you to yourself with such aggressive tactics."

Inertial forces soared negatively as the range meter on tracking Hudson's craft declined in numbers.

"What the-" he began, but he knew what. His craft, the envelope-pushing system of aces, had reverted to safe mode.

**The Situations Room, Imperial Super Star Destroyer _Disparager_**

The insurgent skip-rays vaporized off the tactical map. Blister swallowed this new information very well.

"I can see this partnership working, after all," he said cheerfully. Perhaps Guri's rapid response to a crisis felt very refreshing. Seeing it, Web ventured into new territory with Blister; good humor.

"Whoa, Sir, it looks as if you've chewed sweetbacca for the first time," he said warmly.

"Gum. Thanks for the advice, Web, you've shown me how to get off these cigarras, and now I think I have a substitute," Blister replied, as if enlightened. He shook off that thought abruptly, and jumped back into his commander's chair. "About the remaining bombers, have them flank the _Disparager_ as we spear the enemy formation with our Star Destroyer, at full sub-light speed, and have the Helmsman roll to starboard on my command."

"It shall be done, Sir," Webber said thoughtfully, taken aback. _I've always taken him for a rash old man, willing to sacrifice Star Fighter Command resources as of they come from the Emperor's personal credit well. But now, he's being responsible with __**other** people's TIE-bombers_.

Another thought came to Web, "It shall be done." "It shall be done." "It shall be done." He absently walked to the other side of the bridge to direct the Helmsman.

Sled One

Traee couldn't help but laugh. Lightly, anyway. He caught himself cursing the only category that the New Republic fighters had over the TIE-Defender- storage capacity.

"Why would I carry equipment especially designed for countering the takeover of the flight controls after an internal attack? There is nothing normal about any of this. If I didn't know better-" The comm crackled, disrupting Traee's muttering.

"Heeeellloooo!"

His eyes flashed in proud manner only known to the most elite solders, after being right about the battlespace once more.

"Guri, how did you do that?" Demanded he, always the ponderer.

"A simple long-range diagnostic command was about all I could route your way through this jamming, or rather, the powerful yet largely over-looked docking command tower, until I reached you with my line-of-sight comm," she explained in a rush, pressing to brief him.

"Listen up. A supporting New Republic task-force is out to tackle the _Disparager, _and they have real jamming power. We could use some reinforcements. Could you jump to the waiting fleet?"

Traee affirmed, and signed off, but Guri added, "I'll take your squadron to the flagship for rearmament. See you in twenty." The _Defender _rushed out solo.

**The Situations Room, Imperial Super Star Destroyer ****_Disparager_**

"They were sloppy, Web, revoltingly sloppy. It's a good thing we were our soul ship operating the maneuver, or else we would have had a disaster," Blister mouthed venomously, dissatisfied with choice cogs in the fleet. "Yet it's working. Now many more defensive batteries are covering the bombers whom now need not worry about snub-fighters, beings now locked out by an attack pattern we _have_ drilled recently." He brightened, watching the TIEs cross the channel, the thin space between him and the rebel space ships.

"See that, Web, one stroke and they're crippled. Score one for the Empire," he boasted, as the Mon Calamari ships blossomed blue, and the gray TIE seeds buzzed out 270 different ways. "Now some cleanup work and the Corvettes," he smiled smugly, ever proud of his swift victory. "Now the bombers will form up, come home, and stay safe. I wouldn't want to blunt the tool just yet. Not all the rebels are here, after all."


End file.
